


Despicable Shrek

by HerbertJenkins



Category: Despicable Me (Movies), Shrek (2001), Shrek 2 (2004), Shrek Forever After (2010), Shrek Series, Shrek the Third (2007)
Genre: Amazing, Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Best Fic Ever, Crack, Crack Crossover, Crossover, Dildos, Everyone Is Gay, Gay Sex, Hot Sex, M/M, Male Slash, Rough Sex, Shrek is Love Shrek is Life, Slash, Smut, Weird Sex, Weird Shit, gru is gay, gru's nose, shrek is gay, swamp dildo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-10
Updated: 2015-07-10
Packaged: 2018-04-08 15:43:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4311006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HerbertJenkins/pseuds/HerbertJenkins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>its a rly serious fic about an intimate and fulfilling relationship between shrek and gru.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Despicable Shrek

They met in a bar; a den of cigarette smoke and body heat on a hazy night in July. Neither of them were expecting to speak to someone, to exchange a word or two, to spill out all their feelings which were eating their bodies up from the inside like a festering disease. But obviously, Fate had other plans. She did not want them to go home alone, their only opportunity for a white-hot, one-night love affair missed.

This was a building of broken dreams, of jilted lovers, of drowning sorrows in whatever their cheapest spirit was. A musician with a gravelly voice and a hook for a hand was playing from a dusty piano in the corner, singing about poison and treachery and the dastardly plans of villainous people. No-one in the room really listened to him; he was simply backing music for the night, the theme tune of this nest of outcasts and rejects that the two men had come to.

One of them sat on a stool at the bar counter, his finger gently running over a scratch in the wood. He caught the attention of the bartender and ordered a drink, his words sounding muffled in his head. This night was a daze. He couldn’t feel anymore, keep in touch with reality; not with all his possessions stuffed into a suitcase by his feet, his home and woman gone.

As he lit his cigarette, the bartender placed a glass in front of him. He picked it up and brought it to his lips, his disproportionately long nose bumping against the rim. The drink touched his lips, the fire burning down his throat, consuming his every sense for that one moment. He wanted to drink enough to forget today, to forget that argument, to forget being held at gunpoint-- at the point of his _own_ gun-- by his wife. He had to leave the world, either by taking his own life or dulling his senses enough to ease the pain for one night. Of course he would choose the latter. He could not bring himself to do the former.

The oppressive heat of the bar covered him like a blanket, so thick he could barely stand it. He removed his black jacket, shrugging it off his shoulders and letting it fall down his stick-thin arms. His wife had said that you could break them if you tried hard enough, as she clipped them on to the headboard of their bed with handcuffs and beat him til he came.

But why was he thinking about her now?

His head dropped, right ear against the sticky bar counter, feeling the deepest notes from the piano vibrate against his skin. He wanted to cry. He couldn’t cry. Not here. Not here, even though everyone else wanted to weep just like him.

Slowly, he got up, eyes darting around the room to survey it for possible exits. A leftover instinct from his time as a criminal-- a villain. He was so great, so glorious; he had once been on top of the world. So high, in fact, that he wanted to go beyond the world. The moon had been his first target, but… He smirked as much as he allowed himself. That had been so long ago, that plan. That was when he was still optimistic, and still believed that he could actually _make_ something of his life.

And now he was here. With all the other washed-up, desperate men, whose masculinity had poisoned their loves, decayed their relationships so that only a rotten, putrid corpse was left, and their women had to bury it. Gru fit in perfectly. His villainy had been too much for Lucy, and it had settled into her heart and burrowed deep, like maggots devouring dead flesh. She could not stay, when her husband was like this, when his only motivation was to destroy, to hurt, to kill. Though that was ironic, when just hours ago _she_ had been the one to turn the weapon on _him_.

Next to him, a hulking beast of a person sat on a stool. Gru looked the other way, not wanting this man to see his red, puffy eyes. (Yes, he had eventually broken down and shed silent tears as he recalled the events of the evening.)

“Hey laddeh, no need to be ashamed,” said the man, whose green skin glowed dully under the dim, orange lights. In fact, he was not so much a man, but a beast. An ogre.

“Ashamed of what?” Gru retorted, in no mood to converse with this _thing_.

“You know what I mean,” the ogre replied, as his eyebrows raised and he gave him a knowing look.

Gru wiped his eyes viciously. “It’s none of your business why I am here, and why I was crying,” he spat.

“It’s everyone’s business here.” His deep, powerful voice, with a strong Scottish accent, almost vibrated in Gru’s body. Gru sighed heavily.

“I am not here to recount the reasons why I am here.”

“Oh, how philosophical,” noted the ogre, laughing slightly to ease the tension. At the sight of the ogre’s wide smile, with just a hint of his attractive teeth, Gru couldn’t help but bite his lip. He couldn’t let himself grin, though. He had to keep up his miserable facade for just a little longer, or he’d feel fake. How could he be happy at a time like this?

“Lighten up now, laddeh!” he exclaimed, slapping Gru on the back. “I’m just trying to make you feel better!”

“Well, thanks, that is very nice of you,” replied Gru, still in shock from the physical contact. It was electric, like a thousand volts coursing through his body. All the way through, into every single nerve and every single cell.

He crossed his legs, as the hot rush flowed through his groin. This was not the sort of reaction he’d expected to have at the sight of an ogre.

“So, what’s your name?” he asked.

“Gru, and yours?”

“It’s Shrek.”

“Shrek? That’s… an interesting name. Where are you from?”

“Well, I live in a swamp, not far from Duloc and Far Far Away. D’ya know where that is?”

“N-no…” Gru stammered, the heat in his body increasing with every word that came from Shrek’s lips.

“Far Far Away’s not too far from here, you know,” Shrek said. “I’m surprised you’ve never been there. Most visitors to the Poison Apple have at least passed through… sometimes for unsavoury purposes.”

His large body went cold as he remembered the attack on the city, orchestrated by that mellow-voiced sap with the silky blonde hair. He hadn’t been there at the time, but walking through the empty streets after the assault had been almost as chilling.

“My… uh… my airship crashed here,” Gru admitted. “I don’t even come from this country. There are a lot less… fairytale creatures where I live.”

“That must be nice. No talking donkeys or anything like that.”

Shrek absentmindedly ran his stocky hand over his trouser pocket, where he kept one of Donkey’s thigh bones, the only thing that had survived after Shrek had burnt his corpse. The memories of that night of slaughter and bloodshed still haunted him and gnawed at his heart like a lion at the body of a gazelle.

“If your airship-- whatever that is-- is broken, you can stay at my swamp and fix it tomorrow,” Shrek offered.

He was desperate, his entire body aching with need for _some_ contact, at least one human, or fairytale creature, or anything to assuage his agonising loneliness. He couldn’t survive anymore, not after everyone he’d ever known had been killed and he was left completely on his own. Even the warmth of a man for one night would be enough. It would be a temporary release from his wretched melancholy. And that’s all he needed for now; something temporary, a thing to fuck one time and then forget about forever.

In his quest for this, he had been driven to low, base, _immoral_ things these past few years. When no more potential lovers started coming to his favourite bar, the Poison Apple, he had to search further afield. Far Far Away had been an excellent source of whores, some of whom were as desperate as himself. But those wenches could only do so much. And they soon stopped being interested in him, for his money had run out and he could no longer pay them for their services.

So he travelled. He travelled far from the terrible, painful world that he lived in, and sunk to a despicable level to get his fix. Of course, he’d tried all the chemicals, the drugs and spirits to make him forget about his mental anguish, but nothing worked. All he wanted was someone. Something. A hole, even. Skin on skin. Body heat. A heartbeat that he could hear as he pressed his cylindrical ear against a lover’s chest, sticky with sweat and fluids from their fucking.

His soul had been stained with shame, on one occasion. Recently; too recently. He had taken someone when they did not ask to be taken. Delirious on whiskey and hysterical misery, he had crept into their room and had his way with them. He thought that they’d want it, though, what with the Shrek shrine and posters on the walls. And they did. They had wanted it. But they were too young, and did not consent.

Why did he do it?

_Why did I do it?_ he thought, his internal voice screaming the words over and over again.

He was tainted. He had metaphorical blood on his hands. But human police had no power over ogres who raped boys, did they?

“Shrek? Did you hear me?” Shrek was ripped out of his reverie by Gru’s voice, and his hand gently shaking his powerfully-muscled arm.

“S-sorry?” Shrek stuttered.

“I said, that would be very lovely, thank you,” Gru repeated. “If you wouldn’t mind me staying, that is.”

Shrek’s heart stopped and his entire body was wracked with a sudden jolt of pleasure.

“That… that would be wonderful, Gru,” he replied, in the most sincere voice he had ever used.

“You do have two beds, right?” Gru asked, one corner of his mouth curling into a smile, his eyes glimmering naughtily in the fading candlelight of the bar.

“With that face, I don’t think we’ll be needing two beds,” Shrek countered, his great green hand sliding up Gru’s spindly thigh. Gru let out a shaky breath, glancing down as the ogre stroked him gently.

“Shall we go right now?” he suggested, voice quivering as arousal overcame him.

Shrek’s reply was a smile, and a lick of his plump, beautiful lips.

The journey to the swamp was as short as the two of them could possibly make it. They ran like teenage lovers eloping from their parents, clothes whipping about in the night breeze, low-hanging branches and leaves brushing past them as they sprinted through the forest. They held hands the entire way, Gru’s pale, delicate fingers sliding between Shrek’s large, solid ones. Their minds were filled with the perverse ideas of things they were going to do, and their breathing was quick as their hearts started pumping, from both the exertion of running and the anticipation of sex.

Shrek smashed the front door open, the wood slamming against the outer wall and the hinges cracking. He gripped Gru’s hand tighter and practically threw him onto the bed, ripping off his scarf and all his other clothes, kissing passionately as they did so. Once Gru was naked, Shrek flung off his own clothing, his throbbing erection bursting out of his tartan trousers as he swiftly pulled them down.

“Fuck me now…” Gru moaned, his cock practically pulsing with desire at the sight of the nude ogre.

“Turn over, you Eastern European whore,” Shrek growled. The degrading language got Gru even hotter, and he turned onto his front as quickly as possible to receive whatever delights Shrek had planned to give him.

He spread his cheeks as far as he could, exposing his tight anus with its pink puckered skin, like a rose in spring, just recently sprouted and at the height of its beauty. The hole was so small, as if Gru had never been fucked in the ass before. How Shrek loved an anal virgin.

“We’ve got to loosen you up a bit, laddeh,” he breathed into his lover’s ear. Gru shivered as the hot breath blasted his ear, finding it ridiculously arousing.

Shrek reached onto a shelf and found a jar of gloopy lube, only half full due to his excessive use of it for anal masturbation. He scooped up a sizeable blob and slathered it all over his mighty finger, then plunged it deep into Gru’s anus.

Gru hissed as he got his first taste of anal pleasure. As Shrek dragged his finger out, he moaned, then held back a cry as it went back in. Shrek began to pump in and out, each movement getting Gru hotter and hotter. His asshole slowly widened as it got used to the finger, then Shrek introduced another one, dripping with lube.

The moment the next finger entered was the most pleasurable part so far. The tightness, the slippery moistness of the lube, the indescribable feeling as his anus stretched to accommodate the new width… It made Gru soar to a new height of euphoria, and he soon found himself begging for Shrek to put his cock in.

“Not so fast, whore,” he said, his voice low and gravelly as his two fingers pummelled Gru’s asshole. “I’ve got to prepare you properly.”

A third finger was introduced. Gru struggled to hold back his moans as his anus was stretched even wider, then pounded by the thick digits of the seductive ogre. He heaved as he drew ragged breaths, now being visibly moved by the force of Shrek pounding him.

When he was on the point of cumming, Shrek withdrew. The sudden sliding of his fingers out of Gru’s wide asshole, covered with lube, made him inhale sharply and clench his cheeks together.

“Finish me… please…” he pleaded.

Shrek had other ideas.

He ran his hands over the items on the shelf in his living room: a jar of eyeballs, crockery, a jar of slugs, a few earwax candles… Finally he grasped an expertly-crafted dildo, made of shiny hardwood and covered with a layer of varnish. It was perfect, shaped exactly like a dick, complete with a head with a retracted foreskin, and a number of winding veins. Shrek normally used this to pleasure himself, but this time he would be using it on his lover.

He dipped the dildo into the rapidly-depleting lube, getting the thick translucent liquid all over it, then slowly eased it into Gru’s anus. This new sensation made him cry out, but Shrek ordered him to be quiet and not to cum.

“I need some pleasure too, laddeh,” Shrek growled, his voice sounding like a mighty Scottish warrior fighting against the English invaders and bellowing out his battle-cry.

He turned Gru over and made him sit against the headboard of the bed. As he moved into these new positions, the dildo hit a different pleasurable spot, and he had to try his hardest not to cum. It was agonising, but so arousing that he could barely breathe. When he sat down, the dildo was forced further into his anus, and he allowed himself to let out a deep moan.

Shrek got onto his hands and knees in front of him, taut buttocks just inches away from his face. He pushed the jar of lube in Gru’s direction.

“You know what to do,” he said.

“Fingers?” asked Gru, reaching into the jar to scoop up a blob of lube.

“No. Nose.”

Gru gulped. He had suspected that this would happen, and before they started fucking he did not know how to feel about it. But now that they were in the moment, it seemed so right. His nose was as long as any good dick, and he had penetrated Lucy with it on a number of occasions. But never anally… Was it the same?

Banishing his fear, he covered his long, pointy nose in lube, and maneuvered himself so that he could slip it into Shrek’s anus. He went very steadily, hesitantly introducing the tip, then gently moving his head forwards so that more of the nose could go in. Shrek’s anus was quite wide from his years of rough anal masturbation, so Gru managed to get his nose all the way in without too much discomfort. Shrek moaned like a bitch the whole time, begging Gru to keep going.

Once his face was pressed against Shrek’s buttocks, and he had to start breathing through his mouth, he knew that it was time to pound the ogre like he had pounded him. Grunting with the effort, he drew back his head and thrust it back in, hitting Shrek’s sensitive prostate and causing him to wail with pleasure. Gru did it again, getting himself into a rhythm that Shrek really liked. And he liked it fast and rough.

After a while, Gru’s neck began to ache from the exertion, but he could not stop. He used up the rest of the lube keeping his nose nice and slick, and found that the role reversal-- how he was giving pleasure to his dominant-- got him really hot. He clenched his ass cheeks hard with the effort of not cumming, and got so caught up in pleasuring Shrek that he got up onto his knees so that he could ram his nose even further in.

“I’m about to cum!” Shrek thundered, his knuckles going white as he gripped the sides of the bed.

“Cum inside of me…” Gru pleaded, in his submissive way.

“Of course, whore.”

Gru took his nose from deep out of Shrek’s anus and turned himself so that his own anus was facing the ogre. The dildo was still there, sitting tightly in the wide hole, and when Shrek removed it, Gru could have screamed with pure euphoria. Shrek slammed himself inside of him, thrusting fast and hard, like his primal instincts had taken over. Gru did not suppress his moans, his cries, his screams as he felt the cum rushing down his shaft.

“Let me help you with that,” Shrek whispered in his ear, reaching around and clamping a hand around his cock.

That movement alone made Gru cum violently, a sudden squirt of liquid which shot up and kept going, like a fountain. Shrek helped the cum out by giving him a quick handjob, the sight of the fluid dripping down his fingers making him cum too. Gru let out a sigh as he felt the ogre’s cum fill his anus, warm and wet.

Once they were both spent, Shrek withdrew and went to lie with Gru on the bed. Shrek’s huge body filled up far more space than Gru’s did, so Gru curled up next to him and rested his head on the ogre’s shoulder. Shrek reached over with his other arm and stroked Gru’s smooth cheek. Gru snuggled closer in, inhaling the ogre’s heady scent, feeling his warm skin, and the muscles underneath it. His fingers traced a pattern on Shrek’s chest. Shrek turned his head and kissed Gru on the forehead.

The next hour or so-- they lost track of time-- was filled with this, the silent intimate moments that said more than words ever could. They could not think of anything to say either; they both knew that this would only be one night. What use was it coming out with some false sentimental speech? What good would it do to make known their desire to meet again? It would never happen.

This was the worst part of the night for Shrek. That, and the morning. The moment when he woke up and the bed was empty, the crumpled sheets the one of the only indications that anyone else had been there, the smell of his lover still lingering in the air and on the bed.

But it did not happen this time. Shrek arose, turned over to his left, and Gru was there. Sleeping softly. His chest rising and falling as he breathed. A slight smile on his face, as he dreamed of pleasant things. How could he keep him forever, in this position, in this moment?

Shrek shuffled his body closer, so that he could just _feel_ him. Just… be near him, before the inevitable moment when he would have to leave arrived.

At some point, Shrek fell asleep. When he woke up, Gru was gone.

Just like all the others.

 


End file.
